Final Moments
by squeeshmee3
Summary: A short story about Victor and Belch's final moments in the sewers. Strong Language and character death. Based on the book.


_**A/N:** To mark my 5th re-reading of IT, I was inspired to write this, because IT is not only one of my favorite all-time books, but also, I just really wanted to write out this scene, which was referred to many times but never actually "witnessed". I also wanted to write it because Victor Criss is my favorite character, and Belch is one of many second favorites, and this scene would be a perfect opportunity to write for them, so to speak. Certain bits of given dialogue and events are taken from the book, the rest is made up._

"Let's go back," Victor Criss said into the darkness. Henry heard this only vaguely; his mind was too clouded with rage and black hatred at the kids ahead of them. He barely noticed the foul smell of the pipe or the darkness, focusing blindly on what they came down here to do—chasing down those 7 little fuckers and killing them. He grinned in the pitch black, and if Victor or Belch had been able to see it, they probably would have realized what the Losers Club had realized ages ago—that Henry was crazy, perhaps even crazier than his father, and with that knowledge, taken to their heels and gotten the fuck _out_ of the sewer pipe, thus extending what would soon turn out to be their startlingly short lives.

They didn't, however, see Henry grin, didn't in fact even _know_ he grinned, so they continued to walk through the filthy water and sewage alongside him.

Victor and Belch had followed easily enough in the beginning, drifting in and out of their own consciousness and some sort of strange hypnosis set into place by Henry's madness (and perhaps by It, as well). It wasn't until they had trudged through the sewer pipe for about an hour that they had both simultaneously snapped out of it, getting uneasy.

"Henry, come on, let's go back." Victor said again, his unease growing. He had to suppress the urge to vomit several times. It smelled awful in here, and the water they were walking through was unpleasantly warm. "Henry—"

He got no response, just more furious splashing to his right. He heard Belch mutter somewhere off to his left, "Christ, it smells fucking _awful_ down here," but couldn't see him. He couldn't see his own fucking _hand_ in front of his own fucking _face_, as he so often liked to say—although it was never quite so literal as this. Victor had lately becoming less and less tempted to spend time with Henry, not knowing but perhaps suspecting Henry's declining sanity. Henry had gone "TOO FAR" the other day, the day of the rock-fight, when he was chucking his M-80s at the heads of the Losers who were reciprocating by hurling rocks at them. Victor had done damage, yes (in fact, out of the 5 of them that had been there, he had done the _most_ damage), but rocks weren't M-80s, and he had been quietly relieved Henry was a terrible shot.

Belch, on the other hand, had perhaps vaguely noticed _something_ was wrong with Henry, but had really not thought much about it either way. It wasn't necessarily friendship or love that caused Belch to follow Henry but a kind of stupid loyalty that allowed him to do as Henry said without any questions, and was only too happy to do it, even if Victor wasn't always. However, if Henry ever crossed that _final line_, that final black line that no kid should ever cross (Belch's idea of "TOO FAR" was less defined than Victor's "TOO FAR" if only because he never invested the time to think about it), he would bug out in an instant, because any kid who crosses _that_ line is crazy, and as Belch had once put so eloquently to Victor, he didn't fuck with crazy people.

They, of course, didn't _know_ Henry was crazy; they didn't know Henry intended to kill those 7 kids up ahead of him (although Victor wasn't really sure anymore what exactly Henry's limits were), they didn't know Henry's father, Butch Bowers, was sitting at home, dead in his armchair with Henry's recently acquired switchblade through his neck, but they _did_ know that those 7 kids had certainly stirred up _something_ in Henry, otherwise he would have never come down here and walked for hours through the fucking sewer.

"_We'll get youuuuuuu—"_ Henry suddenly called out, badly startling both Victor and Belch. Belch's legs slipped forward for a moment, almost causing his comically large body (six feet tall at the age of 12) to fall backwards into the murky water.

"_Jesus_, Henry, you scared the shit outta me," he said, catching his balance (which was an amazing feat for someone as huge and clumsy as Belch was) on a jutting piece of metal. He realized at this moment that he could see. Barely, but he could. Looking to his right, he saw Victor, who was also looking around at his newly revealed surroundings, an increasingly troubled look forming on his brow. Then they both faced forward, and saw that Henry had stopped. They were standing in a shaft with a sewer grating on top, Henry listening madly to find out which way those kids had gone so they could follow after down the right pipe.

Then something stirred in the darkness to the far right, behind Victor. Henry turned his head in the direction of the sound, a look of confusion and perhaps also anger that he was being distracted from the task at hand. He couldn't see what it was, but a cold feeling enveloped him, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Victor was breathing loud, shallow breaths, hearing whatever it was stagger towards him in slow, dragging footsteps but too frightened to turn around. When he did at last, his eyes flew open in terror and all the blood ran out of his face.

"_Frankenstein! It's Frankenstein!"_

He couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it, but there it _was_. Henry took a startled step back, and Victor had gone on screaming and shrieking, clutching his face like a madman and telling himself to _RUN_ , but he couldn't take his eyes off of the horror in front of him. He_ hated_ Frankenstein; ever since him and Belch had seen the movie at the Aladdin, and then had to walk home in the dark afterwards (it had been a late showing, plus a double-feature) to Victor's father, who was in such a drunken rage that Vic and Belch had actually mistook him for Frankenstein. Belch had took off towards his own home, yelling to raise the dead, and the next day they both had a good laugh about it, but in the movie you could tell the monster was really just some guy wearing a lot of make-up, and Vic could tell without needing a magnifying glass that this wasn't the case now.

"_Frankenstein! Fr—"_ He was cut off sharply as the monster's huge hand collided with the side of his head, disconnecting it from his neck with a horrible _ripping_ noise and sending it across the shaft-way, where it collided thickly with the wall.

"_VIC!"_ Belch shrieked, his eyes wide and alert and his face paper white. _"JESUS, HENRY, IT KILLED VIC!"_ He was utterly stunned and horrified all at once and suddenly overtaken with the grotesque reality of the situation. He staggered backwards, and this time he _did_ lose his balance, falling on his ass with a loud splash that, under different circumstances, might have been funny. Under these circumstances, of course, it was not funny, not funny at _all_. He somehow, by some _miracle_, managed to get to his feet, using the wall behind him as a support. The creature _(frankenstein)_, was still here—however, It wasn't looking at him; it was looking at Henry, who stood rooted to the spot like an incredibly realistic statue. It began lurching towards him, so enormous that It's flat head nearly brushed the ceiling, and before he even knew what he was doing, Belch threw himself at It, kicking and shouting _"YOU KILLED VIC, YOU STUPID SON OF A WHORE! YOU_ KILLED_ HIM, YOU FUCKER! _Come on_, Henry,_ HELP ME!"

Henry, of course, didn't move from where he stood. Belch was fighting It, this might be his _chance_, if he could only _move_. He tried to lift one leg, wobbled, and steadied himself against the wall, all the while keeping his eyes on the spectacle in front of him.

The creature drew back for just an instance, then came forward again, flinging It's hands fiercely. Belch may have been big, but It was bigger, and without any effort at all It brought down one of It's enormous hands in front of Belch's face, as if scratching him, and for one wild moment Henry thought _Oh my god, it MISSED, it FUCKING MISSED!_ but then Belch began screaming; a horrible, piercing scream that was unlike anything Henry had ever _heard_, and Belch turned around and clamped his hands to his face. Through Belch's fingers Henry saw that gleaming, white skull and realized half of Belch's face was gone, completely _gone_, and Henry wondered with bleary horror how Belch could still be _alive._

Belch stumbled away from the monster, his hands against the left side of his face and blood gushing through his splayed fingers in huge, red geysers. He staggered over to Henry, collapsing as his legs gave out and looking up at him with one large and terrified eye. "Henry—Henry, help me," He said, taking his right hand off his face and reaching out to Henry helplessly. Henry looked at the bloody hand with eyes as big as saucers, then at Belch's grotesque half-face, and then ran down one of the tunnels, not even caring if it was the right one. He ran blindly down the pipe, faster than he had ever run, faster than Victor Criss or even Peter Gordon clocking it on their best days, but no matter how fast he was running or how far he went, he was able to hear Belch's screams, louder and more shrill than before, in his final death agony.


End file.
